Tightropes
by PrincessZeldaBelle
Summary: Finally, at long last, the sixth installment of the Normal Life series. An exhibit opening at the museum doesn't go quite as planned.


Tightropes

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Anything Stephen Sommers came up with isn't mine. :)

Feedback is always welcome and appreciated.  

Sixth in the Normal Life series.

"Get me the hell out of this monkey suit," Rick said the very second we stepped over the threshold.  He wasted little time, tearing off the bowtie, dropping his coat over the side of the lounge in the parlor as he passed on his way to the kitchen.

"You can't possibly be hungry," I said, slipping out of my heels.  "With all that food there?"

"You call *that* food?" he said, though it sounded more like – "Ooo all *ahd* ood?"  I followed the sound of his food-crammed voice, leaning against the doorframe as I watched my husband stand up straight, his cheeks packed tighter than a chipmunk's in autumn.   He seemed to swallow hard, forcing every morsel out of his mouth as he grinned at me, his hands full of food.  The empty cavity was short lived as he stuffed another large bite into the mouth.  It followed suit of the first, disappearing quickly.  "Are you tasting any of that?"

"Yes, and it's better than that paste the museum had the nerve to call 'food.'"

"Well, you know, I tried to talk to Dr. Royce about that.  I told him that your American taste buds would suffer a great injustice if they had been forced to partake of his chosen cuisine for the evening," I said with a grin.

"Ha ha...smartass," he replied, placing a quick kiss on my lips as he passed by me, the largest sandwich I have ever seen clutched in his hands.

"Quite so.  I've learned from the best," I remarked with a raised eyebrow.  "You know, it's really no wonder I'm at the market every other day."

"Would you rather I starved?"

"Hrmmm...well, no, but regardless of whether or not *you're* tasting any of that, I certainly can," I added with a lick of my lips.  I followed him into the parlor where he had plopped down on the sofa, currently kicking off his shoes before he threw his feet up onto the coffee table (at least he took off his shoes first...)

"You know, I'm surprised Annie didn't try anything tonight," he said, steering the conversation away from his eating habits.

"Yes, well, that's debatable upon what you term as trying something," I said, sitting beside him.

"What, did I miss something?"

"O'Connell?  Miss something?  Never!" came the undeniable voice of Jonathan, followed by the front door slamming.  Rick answered with a curl of his lip before stuffing the last of the sandwich in his mouth.  "So how was the little museum soirée?" my brother asked, seating himself in the chair across from us.

"Oh, it was fine," I said, with little enthusiasm.  "It was only a small Greek exhibit opening.  Nothing spectacular."

"No, she's not biased at all," Rick stated with a grin.  "There were some pretty priceless pieces in there."

"Well, I don't imagine they're going to get any more priceless than they already are," I smartly remarked, commenting on his choice of wording.

"My, you are just on a roll tonight, aren't you?  What?  Did you get some practice on Annie before shooting these off at me?" Rick said with a grin.

"Oh, the Blonde Wonder has struck again, has she?" Jonathan asked.

"Well, it seems it more a case of what she *didn't* do," I corrected.  At the confused looks of both men, I decided to elaborate.  "It started at the beginning of the evening when we arrived..."

*****

"Ahh, so glad to see you," Dr. Royce said, approaching Rick and I as we stepped into the new exhibit in the south wing of the museum.  "I know this isn't quite your lovely wife's area," he said to Rick with a wink, "but she certainly does know how to get an exhibit together in no time."  Rick smiled at the compliment, as Dr. Royce bolted off to other museum patrons as they slipped into the wing.

"Some party," Rick said, pulling at his bowtie.

"Yes, and you're going to yank that thing off again if you don't stop pulling at it," I said, in a motherly tone.  "And I'm not going to tie it for you over and over."

"Really?  You promise?" Rick said, only half-teasing.  I knew he wanted out of the tuxedo, but this was a formal event after all, and I couldn't very well have him running around in his usual attire of a rolled-sleeved shirt and boots.

"Oh, hush," I said, glancing around.  Thankfully, there was no sign of Annie, though I couldn't dream of that joyful bliss all night.  She was bound to show her face sooner or later.

It wasn't long before I caught sight of Dr. Royce heading for me at an alarming pace.  "Might I have a word in private, Mrs. O'Connell?" he said, a look of panic mixed with irritation crossing his sharp features.

"Of...course...?" I said, slightly worried.  I glanced at Rick for a moment before walking away with Dr. Royce.

"Where is the coffin?" he asked after we had passed into an empty wing.

"The coffin?" I asked, perplexed.  "What do you mean?"

"The Minoan coffin that's suppose to be on the floor that's not.  I spoke with Jackyllene, and she said she told you to take care of it."  I thought for a moment.  I had heard nothing about the coffin, let alone from Jackyllene.

"I'm afraid there must be some misunderstanding.  I haven't spoken with Jackyllene for days...she certainly didn't tell me to take care of any Minoan coffin."

"She said she sent you a note this afternoon."

"Dr. Royce," I said, taking my turn to be irritated as this was coming down on me, "I assure you, I know nothing..." That was when it hit me.  "Jackyllene is Annie's assistant, isn't she?"  Dr. Royce stood there for a moment, his eyes growing wide.

"Yes," he said, his voice flat.  "She is.  But you can't seriously be accusing Jackyllene for such a thing."

"No," I said, shaking a finger in thought.  "No, but I think that perhaps if Annie neglected to tell Jackyllene to have me take care of the coffin until late in the afternoon, knowing full well I was leaving a little early today..."  I glanced a Dr. Royce who appeared to be turning red.

"This childish nonsense has got to end," Dr. Royce said.

"I couldn't agree more," I said, more to myself than the doctor.  "There may be time yet.  I have an idea."  I sped down the tiled hall, certainly not an easy feat in heels on a freshly waxed floor.  I stopped at my office for a brief second, sure enough, finding a note from Jackyllene.  "Not surprised in the least," I said, tossing the note on the desk.  "All right.  Here's the plan.  Find George, have him bring out the rolling flats… we can still wheel it out before the last of the patrons arrive and the ceremony begins."

"Who's running this place?" Dr. Royce replied with half a grin as we both rushed from the office.

"I'll go find the coffin."  The three foot long box of stone (more or less) had been catalogued the other day...it couldn't have gotten far...not something that weighed that much.  So there was feasibly no way Annie could have just picked it up and stuffed it in the back of the janitorial closet.  I ran for the basement stairs, sliding to a stop before the drop-off (if Rick could do it, so could I.)  Down the stairs, to the right, through the door, and there it was, just as I had left it...

"Evelyn?  Did you find it?" echoed down the stair well.

"Yes, Dr. Royce," I shouted back.  "It's down here, right where I'd left it the other day."

"Very well.  We'll be right down."  The rolling flat clattered to the bottom of the stairs (so much for using the lift.)  George and Dr. Royce quickly followed, tearing down the hall, into the storage room.  The men carefully lifted the coffin while I slid the rolling flat under it, and quickly began to wheel it out toward the lift.  I ran ahead, throwing open the gate, the men following closely behind.  With the coffin and the three of us safely tucked away in the small freight lift, I pulled the crank...and nothing happened.  I pushed it back, pulled it once more...still, nothing.

"I don't understand," I said, again, pushing and pulling the lever of the crank.  "It was working perfectly this afternoon."

"Well, it ain't working now," George commented, with the astute observations that only George could accomplish.

"Thank you for that," Dr. Royce said, beating me to it.  "All right.  We're just going to have to carry it up then."

"Well, how're we gonna do that?"  I rolled my eyes, glancing toward Dr. Royce with the 'Shall I or will you?' look.

"With our bare hands, George."  He would, though how I wanted to.

I threw open the gate once more, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach telling me it was not purely coincidental that this lift was out of order.  I stepped aside, the men wheeling the coffin out of the lift and back down the hall to the staircase.  Reaching up to pull the gate down, my vision suddenly tunneled.  My knees began to shake, as my entire body rapidly grew weak.  Falling against the side of the lift, I stayed for a moment, the metal siding cool against my burning skin.  I was short of breath...my head pounded.  What in the world was happening to me?  I shook it off, eventually feeling the strength return to my legs, as I heard them call for me.  "Coming," I said as loudly as I could manage, shaking my head once more as I closed the gate of the lift.  Taking slow, careful steps toward the staircase, I found George and Dr. Royce two steps up, struggling to keep the coffin balanced.  "Oh, this is never going to work," I said, pushing the falling curls back into the mass atop my head.  I scanned the area, looking for something – anything – that might help to get it up the stairs in one night and not five.  "How much would you say that weighs, Dr.?"

"I don't know... five, six hundred pounds," he answered, gladly dropping his end.  "Why do you ask?"  He followed my eyes up as I wondered aloud.

"How much do you think the support beams would hold?"  We glanced to each other, running for the storage closet.  I had remembered there being several large pieces of rope in there.  No one was quite sure why they were in there, but no one bothered to throw them out either.  I suppose it was just for emergencies like this.

Grabbing the rope, we ran back to the stairs, where George was still holding his end of the coffin up.  "You can set that down now, George," Dr. Royce said, shaking his head. "Now, the question of the evening is how do we get the rope over?  It's certainly too high to throw..." My eyes scanned once more, catching site of the ledge just below.

"Well, it looks to me there's only one option," I said as I took off my shoes, handing them to Dr. Royce as I slipped the rope over my head, allowing it to dangle across my body.

"Evelyn, I can't let you do this," Dr. Royce said, grabbing my arm.

"Nonsense. I'll be up and down faster than either of you would be up.  And besides," I said, lowering my voice as I glanced at George.  "He might forget what he was climbing up there to do."  Dr. Royce smiled at me, finding there was little use in trying to talk me out of this.

Dr. Royce propped a ladder up, out of site of the patrons, just under the ledge.  As I started to scale the ladder, my mind caught up with me.  I must be crazy!  That's more than twenty feet off the ground.  That was it.  I had lost my mind.  Woo hoo.  Gone.  Good-bye.  I pulled myself together, short of slapping myself.  Focusing on the task at hand, I reached the ledge, pulling myself up. Rick was going to kill me if he saw me up here.  Well, too bad.  I took a step across the ledge toward the beam when I stopped short.  My vision tunneled again, this time, what little I could see was spinning out of control.  I closed my eyes, warding off the dizziness that could certainly have been deadly at this point.  Taking several deep breaths, I opened my eyes, the site of the museum floor below me coming slowly back into focus.  I couldn't hear Dr. Royce calling to me over the ringing in my ears.  Ignoring all that was logical, I made it slowly across the beam to the vertical support that kept the beam, and myself, from crashing to the exhibit floor below.  Dr. Royce was directly below me, ready to catch the rope as I dropped the two ends, laced over the beam on the opposite side of the vertical support.  Taking another deep breath, I inched my way back over to the ledge and down the ladder.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack, woman," Dr. Royce said, as I placed my feet firmly on the floor.  There was no time to argue with him, as we ran back down the stairs, tying the rope around the coffin.  The men hoisted it up, as I gave it little pushes up over each step.  Dr. Royce pulled down the rope as George slid the coffin into place.

I ran back out to the floor, attempting to look calm as I came up beside Rick.

"Where've you been hiding?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh...just taking care of some last minute details with Dr. Royce," I said.  I really had no intention of telling him about my tightrope walk.

And I still haven't.


End file.
